


Daughter of the North

by nayanroo



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Childhood, F/M, Gen, Pre-Canon, Sifki Week, kid squishies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:27:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1228117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nayanroo/pseuds/nayanroo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The new arrival at court is <i>nothing</i> like Loki expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daughter of the North

**Author's Note:**

> written for Sifki Week #2! The theme for today, Sunday 2/23, was "childhood". Done as a warmup and a reward for doing chem homework.

Loki prided himself on the fact that he did not fidget at all in his stiff court clothes. Not that he didn’t _want_ to, but Thor _was_ fidgeting, and whatever his brother did, Loki had to do the opposite. It was his duty as a younger brother, though that duty was beginning to war with the habits of a boy on the cusp of adolescence.

There was the slight creaking of leather as their father leaned forward on the throne. “What brings you from your post, good Heimdall? Is something amiss?”

“No, my king.” Heimdall had always frightened Loki a little bit, for he was broad and imposing and could _see all_ , and every time Loki engaged in one of his little tricks a part of his mind imagined Heimdall could see it, and did not want to experience the consequences. Granted, by and large his tricks were harmless and nobody got hurt, but it was still not necessarily what a prince of the realm ought to be doing.

“I come to ask a favor of the court.”

“You have rendered great service to Asgard and these Nine Realms since you took up your post, Gatekeeper. Any boon you ask is mine to grant.”

“The husband of one of my mothers has a daughter, my king. He lives in the north and there is little there of interest to a girl of my half-sister’s age; he feels she would be better suited for life here, where she may have good tutors and learn the ways of the court. I ask that she be fostered here in the palace.”

His father looked at his mother, sitting at the right hand of the throne on her gilded stool. His mother nodded slightly, and his father looked back down at Heimdall.

“We will be glad to foster your half-sister, Heimdall. The queen will find a good place for her among her own handmaidens, and see to her welfare.”

Heimdall bowed even lower, and then again to their mother. “Thank you, my king and my queen,” he rumbled. “I will send word to my mother’s husband.”

Within a week, a small caravan trotted in through the gates of the palace. The carts in back bore gifts for the throne, tribute from the rich croplands of the north for the king’s table. In front of the carts rode a guardsman in livery of gray and red, and beside him a small blonde girl on a high-stepping bay pony. Loki watched as she slid off her pony gracefully and adjusted her cloak, trotting along in her guard’s wake as he walked up to the king and queen and knelt before them.

“I am Hrild, loyal servant of Lord Berg of the north,” the guard said. “I present to you Sif, daughter of the north.”

Sif’s curtsy was awkward (probably because, like Loki, she was currently all knobbly knees) but acceptable, and when she had risen and made her manners to her rulers, his mother stepped forward and cupped her face gently.

“Be welcome here, Sif,” she said. “I have prepared rooms for you should you wish to bathe and refresh yourself, but I think you would like to see the palace instead, yes?”

“I would, my lady.”

“Then let me introduce my sons, Prince Thor and Prince Loki. They will show you the grounds, and take you to my hall when you are ready to be shown your rooms and settle in.” She pushed first Thor, then Loki forward as she named them. “Go on, boys.” As the three of them were walking away, they heard a sharp intake of breath and then their mother was calling out, “And do not go down to the boilers again! Do you hear me, Loki?”

“Yes, Mother!”

“What is the queen talking about?” Sif whispered curiously as they turned a corner. Thor giggled.

“Loki went down to the boilers, where they make the hot water for the whole palace, and it has been four days and they still haven’t figured out how he did it.”

“Did what?”

“Froze one of the boilers solid.” Thor looked over and grinned. “And then hid us both from the guards when they came running.”

“How _did_ you do it?”

Loki hesitated here, though he’d been smiling through Thor’s account. He’d used magic, and most people in Asgard seemed alarmed by the fact he even had it. He had no idea what Sif would think about it. Thor, seeing his brother’s face, quickly jumped in again.

“Magic!” he said enthusiastically. “My brother’s going to be a great sorcerer one day, and we’re going to go on adventures and slay dragons and all the realms will know our names! And we’ll never be in danger because we’ll always be together to protect each other.”

“You’ll need more protecting than I will,” Loki told him. “Don’t forget the time you tried to sneak into the kitchen but got cornered by the head cook, and we had to crawl into the vents to escape and _you_ got stuck.”

“And if you hadn’t conjured that rabbit for the spit dogs to suddenly chase after, we’d never have had the chance!”

“ _Exactly_.” Loki adopted the most superior expression he knew, one modeled after a look he’d seen his father wear a lot when dealing with certain courtiers. “He needs me.”

Sif laughed, and then a curious thing happened. Her hair caught the light as they walked, and her cheeks that were still ruddy with the morning chill seemed to glow, and Loki, completely blindsided by this thing that had only come upon him gradually before, actually stumbled on the join in two flagstones.

“That _is_ clever,” she said. “I think I would like to go on adventures too.”

“You’re a _girl_. You’ll tear your skirts and scream.”

“I’ll wear _trousers._ Skirts are for celebrating victories.” Sif said this with such a resolute tone of voice that Thor shut his mouth and shrugged, looking at his brother over her head.

“That makes sense.”

“Yes,” Loki said, remembering himself (though by Thor’s sudden smirk, he hadn’t wiped the look off his face quickly enough). “It makes a lot of sense. Very practical. But you’ll need a weapon.”

Sif gave him a sidelong glance that, strangely, made his mouth go dry. “You’re both princes,” she said slowly.

“Good of you to finally notice.”

“You could _get_ me a sword.”

“Not something smaller?”

“I like swords.”

“If you like swords,” Thor said, “Let’s go to the training grounds first. Mother and Father say we’re not big enough to train with the regular classes, but we’ve got our own instructors. Maybe they’ll let you train with us!”

They took off and, a heartbeat later, Loki jumped forward and caught up with them. He didn’t want to miss any chances.


End file.
